Musings on Life, Love, and Linguine-Poetry & Writing
When she looks in the mirror, she sees the girl like a bright beacon of light from within with rosy cheeks, and bouncing red curls and a body that was willow switch thin.
To be a creative child once more dreaming of Rose the bright violet horse to skip and play, counting only to four hopscotching your way through life’s course.
Oh Lord, my soul does weep for sweet relief from yesterday’s bitter sorrow for I know that on the wind more will come with dawn’s cold tomorrow.
DARLING, love me forever and I will do the same fill our nights with passion burning the eternal flames.
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